


Using your Wits

by lionc



Series: Stubborn and Broken [1]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bank Robbery, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Not beta-read, Physical Abuse, Slow Build, series 3 episode 4, this isn't a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionc/pseuds/lionc
Summary: (Series 3, episode 4)What if DI Thursday and CF Strange arrived too late, after the bank robbery and didn't succeed in getting Morse and Joan back during the shooting? What if the two of them were taken hostage and brought somewhere far away, to some place no one would ever be looking?*Heed the warnings ;x (especially at chapter 13 and 14)*





	1. Chapter 1

~)Retrospect(~

Back at the bank they were dragged away during the firefight with DI Thursday and CF Strange. They threw them both in the car, Morse fought with one of the violent robbers. Trying to get out. The robber snatched his weapon out of his hands which was kinda an easy thing to do. Cole Matthews was like a bull compared to his thin build-ed frame. The man was broad shouldered, trained, someone you didn't pick a fight with during a night out. 

Cole brutally grabbed his collar and looked him straight in the eye, 'Behave or you'll be sorry.' he said angry, pressing the pointy end of the weapon on his throat. But Morse didn't care he's been through so many things already, but the thought of a couple of terrible criminals kidnapping Joan was the worst thing of them all. So he fought and fought but a heavy fist kicked the side of his head and he fell in an endless stream of stars and after that, darkness crushed him like a leaf. 

(~Present~)  
Morse and Joan Thursday were taken as hostages. The two men had blindfolded them both, a demanding voice led them through a door of a somewhat rusty building. The stairs creaked under their steps. It was dusty, Morse tasted copper on his tongue, so that meaned they were in some kind of old garage. Suddenly he heard some twittering seagulls in the distance, outside, flying around. So they were near the sea, possibly at a harbor. 

As fast as he could, he thought of all the near harbors he visited, the suburbs and the places were no one dared to come. Maybe they were in some kind of unused warehouse at a deserted part of the harbor. Morse didn't visit the harbors often, in his whole life he visited maybe two or three harbors? God knows where they were. Even if he did his best to collect the slightest clue, he wouldn't know. 

They walked into what must be a big room, because you could hear a slight echo touching the corners. 

Suddenly a sound of wood scrapping the stone floor brought Morse out of his raging thoughts. The men behind them brought them to a halt.  
'Turn around.' One of them said, so they did. 

Suddenly a pair of big hands touched his shoulders. Morse flinched, mainly because he didn't know what these guys were up to. 

'Sit,' another voice he assumed was his brother Peter Matthews. A pair of hands pushed him to the ground, he felt a chair underneath him and sat down. At this point the only smart thing was to tag along. Figure out a plan to escape and strike at the right moment. Morse hoped dearly one of them removed the thing covering his eyes, otherwise every action would be futile. 

'Put your hands behind the chair,' Cole said with a heavy voice. 'And don't think of anything funny, there is a gun pointing at you from the other side of the room.' 

Obediently he did so. Damned he was so powerless with this blindfold on. An anxious feeling crawled at the back of his mind when he felt a rope around his wrists. He swallowed. Suddenly he heard a light sob from his left. Joan. 

'Joan, are you ok?' Out of nowhere Peter grabbed him by his auburn locks and jerked his head roughly backwards. A tear stung in his eyes because of the sudden impact. 

'There will be no talking whatsoever! If I hear or see anything of that matter. I assure you, I can kill you with this gun. But I can also badly hurt you if I wish.' The clicking of a loaded gun had never sounded so loud. Peter or Tom, Endeavor didn't know which, thankfully let go of his hair and instead reached for the blindfold. He took it of and the sudden strike of light touched his blue eyes. A tear escaped. Morse hoped they didn't see that otherwise it would be so humiliating. 

The man who he fought with in the car, stood before his sight. 'So no talking! You hear me?' 

'Lets see a shot to the knee isn't deadly now is it?' He grinned intimidating. 'It's rather painful though, not to mention that you can never use that leg again I suppose, or a shot in the hand or your tiny toes wouldn't risk your life, right?' He mocked. Morse looked at him and was shot by the realization that they were at the mercy of this man, this evil bastard who had no respect for the lives of others. Who did as he wished because no one could stop him doing so. 

He literary had his and Joan's life in his bare hands. They were powerless. He panicked a little. No he had to do something. Come on Morse use your mind. He had to get Joan out of here, get her to safety. That's what mattered. He only had to figure out how.


	2. Chapter 2

'Why are you doing this? It doesn't have to be this way.' He said. One of the criminals hit him harshly, Morse didn't know which one of them, because for a moment he blacked out for a bit.  
'What did I say about opening your mouth!' Blurted Cole dangerously close. That had brought him back to the present. Morse pushed through and went on, it was now or never.  
'It's true, Joan is the daughter of Thursday. But I know him well and I know how dangerous and fierce he can be. I mean you've kidnapped his daughter, for god's sake! He most certainly started a huge witch hunt by now. They will arrive here after a day or so if not in a couple of hours, I suppose.' Again this time the back of Cole's hand connected with his other cheek and ripped his lip open. This time a small cry escaped his lips. 

'Don't spit any bullshit you pathetic little man, how would you be so sure, can you even call yourself a policeman after you didn't prevent me murdering that man.' He said in an almost arrogant manner. As if he took pride in what he had done. Morse looked away and felt a sting of guild in his gut. Yes, maybe part of it was his fault, but how could he have known that this madman would shoot this banker so abruptly. No one had seen that coming. A memory of blood flashed before his eyes. The terrified expression on the bankers face was a thing that would stay with him for a long period of time. 

But he tried to hold on and didn't let the memory overwhelm him, like some kind of giant claw bringing him down. The only thing that mattered at the moment was to get Joan to safety. Thats it.

So he put the mask back up and locked their eyes again and said, 'There were a lot of times I stood by his side during those witch hunts and I can tell you this. He won't stop for anything. It really is..-' He laughed nervously, 'A good job you kidnapped his daughter, because that means you will not survive the next day or the day after. I can assure you that.' The two robbers looked at each other for a second, a light tip of distress flashed in the eyes of the younger one. 

Morse knew they wanted to hear more of what he had to say. 'Where is your friend hm? Wasn't this your meeting point when things went wrong?' He said. Morse liked it when he was in control of a conversation it gave him a rush of confidence. 'I guess they already got him.' He mocked. 'What are you trying to say?' Said Peter clearly freaked out a bit while withholding his brother from beating him again. 'I'm only saying, if you let his daughter go, you will not only slow him down, but by all means, he will be easier on you two.'

The two men were quiet. Cole who seemed unmoved by Morse's words looked him intimidating in the eye, but didn't say anything. Clearly he was reconsidering something. 'He has a point brother, maybe he's slowed down a bit if he has his daughter back.' Peter said. 

The other man's face was unreadable, but those eyes were as cold as stone. After a moment they walked out of the room and closed the rusted door behind them. To discuss this in private. Morse quickly looked to his right and checked Joan for any traces of physical abuse. Thankfully he didn't saw any. 'Joan..' Morse whispered, 'Did they..' She looked up, terrified eyes met his, her hair was a mess and some dark locks hung over her tired face.


	3. Chapter 3

'No they didn't touch me.' She whispered. 

Thank god they didn't otherwise Morse would never forgive himself for it. Suddenly he saw tears running down her cheek, she was shaking slightly. Damned, he already let to many bad things happen to her. He had to get her out of here as soon as possible, no matter the cost. 

'Joan,' he said, 'it's gonna be alright, I'm gonna get you of here.' 

'Morse, please don't talk.' She replied as softly as she could. But a spark of hope emerged in her eyes and for a moment it was just the two of them against the world. An huge feeling of love rushed over him and again he was reminded of how much he actually cared for this woman. He decided to take a look at the room, a way out, maybe to find a piece of sharp metal lying somewhere on the ground to cut their the rope around their wrists with. Sprinkles of dust flew around them. From a small cellar window shone the light of a sunset, so it must be evening he thought. Some Storage closets filled with old paint and pots and a desk, gave Morse the impression that this place still was in use. The place they were put in clearly was a wreck. But god knows where they were. 

'I don't trust this policeman bro, but hell I ain't wanna go to jail. Maybe he has a point of letting..-' A loud bang against the wall interrupted his sentence. 'Listen to me, Peter no one will go to jail, not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.' Cole said agitating. 'You hear me? Don't sound like we've already lost this, okay? The main thing at the moment is that we need backup..-'

'you're thinking of calling the boys aren't you? Someone ratted us out, remember. Who can we trust?' 

Distracted by his surroundings Morse didn't notice the quick turn of events when Cole opened the door and stormed towards him with a gun. The man who clearly was in charge of this whole situation pointed the gun at his forehead. 'Who ratted us out.' He said angry and demanding. Morse knew the answer, but wouldn't give it away so freely. 

After a moment of silence. The criminal said, 'Ah you're gonna be like that hm, I didn't think so.' He pointed the gun straight at Joan's head, who almost screamed at the sudden impact.  
'Please don't do that.' Morse answered, his heart hammered in his chest he had to do something, something smart. Come on. Use your wits! 

'Let her go.' He was going to regret this decision later, but right at this moment, the safety of Joan, was all that mattered. 

'If you let her go, you not only will slow her dad Thursday down, but I will tell you who the rat was and help you catch him.' There it was. No going back now. 'He's the one who, not only you but me and Joan and all those other people you took hostage as well. Got us Into this mess.' He said as convincing as possible. 'He. Is the one to blame, so I gladly will help you take revenge.'


	4. Chapter 4

'So, let her go and I will help you.' Morse said again, like some kind of mantra. Cole watched him closely. 

'Who was it.' He demanded. God this man was as stubborn as a rusted nail. 'Only. If you let her go.' 

'Cole, maybe this is some kind of police tactic he'd learned in this kind of situation.' Peter said. Cole scoffed at that, but lowered his gun. 

'I've heard a lot about you, Endeavour Morse right? I heard you are a cunning fellow, quick, smart, stubborn just like me. Solved a lot of cases in a very short period of time. How can we trust a policeman such as yourself.' 

'Because I was doing some research about his motives and background. I know everything about him, his address, where he works, who he loves, you name it and I can give it to you.' 

It went against all the things he stood for. But ... Well what did it matter now anymore anyway. 'I will help you catch him and maybe even help you escape, because at this point it doesn't look too good for you two, if you ask me.' That had made them angry, but they knew he was right, just the two of them and a traitor amongst their friends... They were vulnerable. 'But I can only assure such a matter if you let her go.' 

'Alright, I don't usually trust a policeman, but I know when someone is lying to me, and I also know this DI Thursday is no joke.' 

'Cole, are you shittin' me right now? You believe the word of a policeman?' Peter said startled. 

'Do you wanna go to jail, Peet, is that it? No? Then do as I tell you to. Put her blindfold back on and take her somewhere near Oxford. She'll find her home by herself.' Peter sighed and did what his big brother ordered him to do. 'Why for god's sake.' He mumbled angry. 'Because I think we'll get a lot more use out of him than we think.' A strange terrifying grin appeared on his face. Morse couldn't tell what it exactly was about. He had won. But somehow this grin gave him the chills and he didn't know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's a short chap. Hopefully the next one will be longer :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back :) enjoy!

'Alright little policeman, it's time we have a talk.' Said Cole while shoving the wooden chair were Joan was sitting on a while ago, right in front of Morse. The old chair creaked under the weight of Cole. Their knees almost touched and Morse began feeling uncomfortable by the closeness of the brute.

'You said you had information, so talk!' He said, this time rather impatient. The man was short-tempered thats for sure, like a wolf warning a prey that he wouldn't do something stupid.  
'How do I know she is safe?' Morse said and swallowed thickly, his throat felt raw and his bleeding lip finally dried up a bit because of the dry dusty air that surrounded the place. Cole's eyebrows narrowed and he looked at him fiercely for a moment. Like he was deciding what to do with him.

A dangerous moment fled by. But outright the man burst into laughing. Men, this bank robber really was unpredictable, Morse thought he had no idea how he could outsmart him if he couldn't even predict his nature. 'Well, the truth is you don't.' He said.

Suddenly outside of the building, the engine of a car started on and drove off until the sound died away in the distance. A sign that his brother did as he was told. Bringing Joan to safety. Although that's what Morse hoped it was. 'I will not talk if I'm not certain she is safe.' He said quietly. 

Cole sighed, 'Look, maybe you are not aware of the situation, but you are not in a position to make demands, junior detective. If it's any comfort, my little brother always does what I tell him to do. If he comes back I will ask him to be certain, yeah?' He said in a mocking tone as if Morse was still a boy in trousers. He still moped a bit. But decided it was for the best to stop doing it and wait for Peter's return. 

'Good, then we wait until then.' He said serious. He was still in control, he couldn't led the little control he had left slip through his fingers. If he kept talking, giving small to no clues of information to the robber, until the coppers would arrive. Yes, he could do this. If Joan spoke to Thursday about the place they were kept. The police would search any harbor nearby and DI Thursday would be here in no time, Morse was certain of that. If he could just keep the two of them busy all would be well at the end of the day, he just needed to stay calm and in control.

'You take me for a fool?' Cole bend over and rested his arms on his knees, holding the gun lowly on his left. 'I see, what you are trying to do here.' He laid down the gun on top of Morse's knee in an intimidating manner, Morse tried not to flinch when the metal touched the fabric, but instead he still looked the robber straight in the eye. 'You are trying to stay in control, aren't you? Thats what you are trained for. Little piece of shits, in your fancy expensive suits,' Suddenly the gun crept closer, caressing softly over the fabric of his pants towards his belt. Morse tried to shrink away from the gun, with no success because, well, he was bound to a chair. 'Thinking you can do anything with no consequences.' Cole followed. The pointy end of the gun sneaked under the fabric of his shirt. The cold of the metal touched his belly and Morse buckled by the sensation of it. Suddenly he felt so vulnerable and scared, it hurt his pride. But he tried his best not to show it. 'Well not on my watch.' Cole said eventually, while studying his reaction.

'You will tell me exactly what I want to know, or I'll make you my second target practice and trust me you don't want that,' A dangerous glee rose in the eyes of the man. Morse shivered and turned away from his face, disgusted and scared of him, this man couldn't seriously be considering this, or could he? Better not take the risk, he thought. The air grew heavy between them, for a moment it was very quiet. Just the seagulls and the wind blowing through holes and cracks of the old harbor building. 

'Look if what you said was complete rubbish, I will not act kindly. I hate liars, did you know that? But I will keep you alive ofcourse, you're much more valuable than alive than dead. You are also our way out of this mess. But a pig can still squil when all of it's limbs are chopped off.' He said in a dangerous tone and pressed the tip of the gun a little harder against his naked skin.

Morse locked their eyes again. 'I did not lie.' He said, each word slowly. 'I just want to wait for your brother.' He said calmly. 'So can you just please put that gun away, there is no need. I get it.' A touch of panic made his voice all go raw, he looked away from the man his cheeks a tint of red. 'There is nothing to be ashamed of little policeman.' Cole said with a fake sweet voice, he clearly enjoyed this. 'I understand.' He said just as sweetly. 

Morse didn't know where this was heading, but he was getting annoyed by the pet names. 'Look can you just quit the mocking already and give me something to drink, please. My throat hurts.' Maybe he lost it. But he was so utterly tired and his body ached by the blows it was given, he hated this but he had to carry through. Otherwise there would be no tomorrow. 

Suddenly Cole grabbed his jaw and yanked him forwards, very close to his face. The gun still lingered on his belly and Morse didn't dare breath. He shouldn't have said that, he thought. What was wrong with him, why was he so incredibly stubborn at the wrong moments? He closed his eyes and didn't want to think about what could come next. 

'What did I say about demands, boy.' Cole's eyes pierced through Morse's closed eyelids, his fingers pressed harshly in his soft cheeks. The fresh wound on his mouth stung and he felt warm drops of blood streaming down his chin. 'Maybe you first need to know your place here.' He said darkly. Morse opened his eyes for a moment, just to see the expression on the other man's face. Anxiety crawled back in his mind, over his back and arms like a stream of ice that froze his every limbs, because at that moment the realization struck in that he really screwed it up this time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much for the nice comments, it really means a lot!  
> It also motivated me to pick up the story again, so thank you :D

'Unless ofcourse, if you give me the information that I want. Now!' Morse shrugged by the harsh volume of his voice but tried to not squirm in his grip, because that gun, really, was something else... He knew the man wasn't bluffing, he really couldn't risk anything.

'Anything smart to say now, little man?' He spat out, right in his face, Morse blinked his eyes shortly because a drop of Cole's saliva stung in his eye. This man truly had no manners, he thought. 

'Well?' Cole repeated. Morse tried to say something, unfortunately, nothing but a mumble left his painfully shut mouth.

'Good!' As quickly as he had grabbed his jaw, he released him again and leaned backwards against the lapsed wooden back of the chair. Morse looked away, his head hurt and his sight was spinning, maybe he had some kind of concussion after all. He had to stop angering this madman of a robber. Because a bit more damage there, is not what he needed right now. Right now, he had to stay sharp and clear in his head if he wanted to survive this mess. The gun still stayed on his stomach, the metal had warmed up a bit because of the heat his body radiated. 

'I'm so glad we are finally on the same page here.' The robber said. Morse's eyes widened but he withhold himself to say something about that completely incorrect statement.   
Suddenly the gun on his stomach moved, not away, but closer. The warm metal crept up his skin and lifted his shirt quietly, towards his thin ribs and lung and finally stopped on his chest, close to his hammering heart. Goosebumps appeared everywhere on his body because of the sudden coldness of air that cherished the newly exposed skin. But mostly because of the gun and his unpredictable owner. Morse shivered, but didn't dare say anything to the man and this strange gesture, that prickled his nipple lightly. He's always been sensitive there. This was getting ridiculous. What was the robber's intent on doing this?

'A fragile thing aren't you.' Cole said and eyed him absentmindedly, following the trail of goosebumps his gun had caused on Morse, he found himself fascinated by the slim body of the young man in front of him. The junior detective clearly was scared, he felt him shivering lightly, when he pressed the gun more firmly against his heart. Beating like mad. Somehow the vulnerable sight of the smart ass copper, excited him in more ways than he had expected. He really was a charming man, big crystal blue eyes, little auburn curls and freckles all over his sweet tender face. Quite the catch he thought. 

He couldn't help himself but the urge grew stronger to just, touch the soft pale skin that was so quietly trembling underneath his gun. Slowly he closed the distance between him and the young man again. He raised his hand towards the little freckles on his stomach, his fingertips sliding lightly over tender skin. 

'What are you doing.' Stuttered Morse, who needed a moment to process all this. 'Can you please stop that, if it's information you want. I'll talk but please. Stop touching me.' He again tried to move away from the robber, because he really did not like where this was heading. 

The intrusive touch stopped for just a second, Cole looked him in the eye. There it was, the look of a man in a bar after midnight, seeing something he liked and that wasn't some nice beer after a long day of work. No, Morse had seen that look before on a private teacher. He'd escaped from a similar situation like this, when he was a bit younger and still studying at the university of Oxford. 

'Nah, you know what, fine, we can wait for my brother's return. In the mean time let's have a little fun here.' And with those words he laid a broad hand on his warm skin. Morse's blood ran cold, the young detective stilled in his bindings. 'No, stop it. I urge you to stop this right now!' He yelled. The man only grinned at him, but continued caressing his stomach with the palm of his hand. 

Morse was already incredible scared of him, but now the feeling changed in something else entirely. Panic and helplessness enfold his whole being. When he felt the rope of his bindings biting in his flesh and the gun pressing right on his heart, he knew he was utterly stuck and couldn't do a flying shit about it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, I wasn't happy with the outcome,  
> So I had to rewrite the whole thing. Hope it was worth the waiting!

'Stop it!' Morse yelled again, the panic and disgust he felt touched his voice and somehow that got cole's attention. 

'What is it boy, scared of a little touching?' He asked with a grin while his hand rubbed softly over his ribs and chest. Morse looked him straight in the eye, yes he was panicking, mainly because they didn't teach him, how to act in a situation like this. Because, hell, what criminal would do this to a police officer and why. 

Well, Morse knew the answer to the 'why' as plain as day already and that's what frightened him most of all. 'No, I just don't see why you would do this without my consent.' He said, maybe he could still talk his way out of this, he thought. 

'Nah, I think you have some experience in this, don't you little detective, maybe you don't want me to stop at all?' His hand slid down to his waistband, his fingers opening the leash. 

Cole laughed in a cunning way, when he saw the sudden panic on the young man's face. That angered Morse more than he had expected, so in the long run of this tense situation, the anger got the better of him. He wanted to kick him away but the gun still pinned down right on his heart, he was helpless. Goddammed!

'What are you some kind of frustrated robber who can't get off even when his own wife helps him?' 

He spitted. The robber paused for a second but suddenly stood up from his chair, faster than Morse's tired mind could process. A harsh piece of metal slapped his cheek with a brute force. His head turned sideways because of the impact. He fell to the ground hard, taking the chair with him. Another kick in his stomach almost cracked his ribs. Darkness surrounded him for a moment and the immense pain he felt in his jaw and head made him nauseous to the bone. 

Morse fell into an unconscious state, but really, it felt more like a deliverance than anything else at the moment. Finally, he thought beaten. But the robber withheld him from the welcoming peace and shook him awake roughly. He heard someone speaking to him, but he couldn't make out the words and he couldn't stay awake either. 

A sharp feeling of cold shook him awake and cleared his head, this time permanently. He lay on his side on the cold muddy ground, strapped to a chair in an awkward angle at a harbor where still no one had come looking for him. He coughed, drops of water streamed down his face, he noticed his head felt all wet. A bucket half full of water lay beside him, someone had tried to wake him up, he realized. 

'Finally! I thought I'd lost you for a moment.' Morse tensed. Muddy shoes walked towards him from the distance, he didn't dare look up at it's owner. 

The robber knelt down beside him. 'I'm sorry for my tantrum, but you see, that's what you get when you talk about my wife like that. She's dead by the way. You wanne know how? Some asshole gangster shot her down, The reason? because at that time I couldn't pay him back and now I had the money for that bastard, but you with your police badges and hero complexes ruined all of it!' Cole grabbed his shirt and lifted him slightly from the ground, Morse groaned, his whole body felt numb and painful. 

He began shaking lightly, mainly because he was so scared of the man and for another blow to come. 'But you can fix it, isn't that wonderful? With your knowledge of everything and everyone and your information about the rat, you help me getting what I want. You understand?' He said, his breathe touched Morse's face. Morse blinked a couple of times, but held his gaze to the ground, carefully avoiding Cole's eyes, he knew better now than to rebel against the man.

'Do you understand, little detective?' He repeated. 

'Yes.' Morse managed to say, but it was no more than a soft wail. 

'Good.' The robber said and gave him an affectionate kiss on the forehead. Like he was some kind of property. 

'Let's pack and get the hell out of this place, before mr. Thursday comes snooping.' What, Morse couldn't believe what he was hearing. Where they getting out of this place? In the mean time a car stopped by, Cole greeted his brother.

Morse was still flabbergasted, he didn't see this coming. 'Damn, Cole you really smacked the shit out of him.' Peter said when he helped Tom, another accomplice, to unbind Morse from the chair. 'Yeah, he needed that.' Cole said. 'But now he understands don't you boy?' The robber gave him a short playful pat over his curls and walked towards a clearly switched car outside the building. 

The two other men supported him to walk. Morse felt dizzy, this was all getting to much for him to handle. 

'That other girl is save, I dropped her at the park before her house.' Peter said to him. Well, at least he knew the love of his life was safe, he thought quietly, before passing out again.


	8. Chapter 8

He opened his eyes, his eyelids felt heavy and irritated. Like he’d just woken up after a rough night out and had walked straight into a fight. It felt as if he had slept for days. His head hurt and his sight was blurry, like a watercolor drawing after the water was added. 

In a state of automatism he tried to turn on the lamp on his nightstand to look at the time. But he just grabbed into thin air and noticed there was no lamp as well as a nightstand. 

He heard a clinking noise of metal against metal and realized after a while that he was the one making that noise. Morse tried to sit up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and noticed that some bandages had been added on his face and head. His mind was still incredibly cloudy but finally, some of the silhouettes in the room turned slowly into furniture. 

Furniture that wasn't his...

As if he was kicked from behind. Everything came back, all at once, the robbery, Jane,the kidnapping, the harbor, the beatings... 

He had fallen unconscious before they transported him into the yellow car, maybe the cops had rescued him in the meantime. Maybe he'd woken up in a hospital, because the sheets of his bed were white coloured and his surroundings also had a dull white colour. Except for some of the furniture. 

No need to panic, Morse, first you need to know where you are, he thought to himself, then you need to judge the situation. 

Suddenly he heard the clinking metal noise again, it came from his right. He looked down at his arm and saw the sharp blink of a handcuff around his wrist, clinged to a white timber from the bed. 

He stiffened, still under the assumption that he was in a hospital, rescued by his co-workers. Save and sound from his captors. So this was something very odd and didn't belong at all, in the array of his conviction. 

He tried to loosen his thin wrist from the harsh metal, but ofcourse, he of all people should've known that, that wasn't an option with these heavy cuffs. He'd made so many arrests with them, why even try, he thought grumpy.

The most important question at the moment was, why he was even cuffed in the first place. Why would Thursday strap him to this bed? Was he accused of something? Or wasn't he in a hospital at all.

Morse's curiosity grew every second, he needed answers, now!

'Nurse!' He called, his head stung immediately. 'Or just someone. I urge you to tell me where I am and why I'm bound to this bed.' 

There was no response. 'Hello?' He yelled again. Still none, not even a sound of any living beings behind the door. It was as quiet as a graveyard. Morse gotten impatiently and sat up straight this time, ready to find out where the hell he was. 

He removed the sheets from his body and saw that he still was wearing the same clothes from the moment he was abducted, apart from his jacket and shirt. 

The detective shoved to the edge of the bed, pushing the rising panic away, when piece by piece the realization crawled into his mind. That he wasn't rescued by any chance and still was held captive. So that would also mean, that the trace that led to the harbor end up cold, Morse thought with a huff he sat down. So in other words all hope is lost, he realized. 

No! He still had a chance to escape. The window on his right wasn't locked with anything to keep him detained. The door on his left was slightly open. No one had heard him yelling, otherwise there most certainly had been a response. So, he had to try to escape, no matter what, maybe this was his only chance. 

He stood up from the bed, a little too fast because he immediately got dizzy, bringing him out of balance. 

He grabbed the side of the bed for support, breathing in and out slowly. The handcuff around his wrist attracted his attention, the only obstacle that stood between him and freedom. For a moment he weighed down the possibilities of how in Gods name he could free himself from the metal. The only possibility that stood out from all else, was breaking his own thumb, so he could slide out his wrist from the handcuff and flee. 

But consciously doing that, was something else. Morse sat down again on the bed, confronted by this idea and the aversion he felt. It's that or being used as an information source, that would damage his professional secrecy and thereby his whole career as a detective. Without ever being rescued...

Morse swallowed down the dry choking sobs that escaped his throat. It was now or never he thought. But he just couldn't bring himself to willingly break his thumb in the process of escaping. It was so damn hard. 

But he had to. Not only would his career end, but he'd also put a lot of people in danger with the information he had. Unthinkable, Morse thought. 

He added a piece of the sheets in his mouth to quiet his screams and ultimately broke the thin bone in his thumb. 

The pain was agonizing, he almost passed out flat onto the bed. But tried to keep himself in the present. Nausea brought a sour taste on his tongue and he had to withhold himself from throwing up. He ripped away the sheets, his whole hand hurt but he tried to slide away from the handcuff anyway. 

It worked out perfectly! He was free. 

Morse had to contain himself from a small victory laugh, mainly because he wasn't sure if the building was deserted. 

He walked to the window. It looked old and battered, but still functional. He tried to open it with the not damaged hand, but the sliding mechanism was incredibly stiff and stopped half way creating a space not even the size of his head. Morse sighed and took a moment to gather all of his strength and will to get it open and with one harsh move, he instead destroyed the whole mechanism. Making it permanently non-functional. 

Goddamn! 'Are you kidding me,' he hissed to himself. Suddenly a sound echoed from outside the door, Morse freezed, quickly overlooking the room for anything that can be used as a weapon and prepaired himself for what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pain to write, sorry for the boring chapter.  
> There'll be more action in the next one <3


	9. Chapter 9

Left in the room a bottle of water was placed on a drawer. Morse looked at it thoughtfully and made his way to the bottle and picked it up, as quiet as possible. His heart rhythm thrummed in his ears because of the adrenaline and the pain he felt in his hand. He grabbed the bottle tightly in his other and slowly went to the door, paying attention to any noises that could indicate the presence of his captors. 

But there was none. 

He pushed the door open, it creaked but he didn't saw any movement in the hallway so he silently walked through the door. Making his way to the stairs that led down straight to the exit and his freedom. 

Piece of cake he thought, maybe too easy... As expected the creak of another door opened on the ground floor, making him almost drop the bottle. A buzz of more than 5 men talking in the living room of the house was the least of his problems right now. 

'Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna check up on him,' Said a slightly irritated voice to the other men. 

A young criminal made his way to the stairs in a quick pace. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, clearly tired and bored and walked upstairs, he went to the room of the detective. 

The door was wide open, this is new, he thought suspiciously. He looked at the bed, the handcuffs dangling loosely on the side of the bed. 

'What the hell...' He said. 

Clang! The man collapsed unconsciously to the ground. Morse walked away from the body, but made sure he first checked the pulse of the man before making his way downtown. He had some luck with the other rooms, none of them were locked so he could hide himself, while the other passed him without noticing anything. 

In the mean time he'd put on a light blue shirt with some buttons, not bothering to close the shirt he slowly climbed down the stairs. 

The mumbling in the living room became louder with each step, Morse held the bottle close to his body. It must've been late in the afternoon because the sun gave a golden glow through the windows in the corridor. 

Finally, one last step and he was on the main ground. The cold floor tiles prickled his feet. There was no doubt, this was his moment to escape! He placed the bottle on the white tiles and ran to the door stretching his arm to grab the handle. With one move he clicked the door open. Expecting it to swing wide open with his force, Morse instead clashed against a closed door. Obviously still locked. 

'Well, that was a mindful measure, locking that door.' Said a voice behind him, Morse knew all too well. 

No! He thought while wrenching the handle harshly in one last desperate attempt to unlock it. Bringing his damaged hand to help the other, everything to just escape from this man. 

Morse stooped away in time from Cole who closed in behind. He quickly picked up his bottle weapon to strike him right before the other could take him in his grasp. 

Broad-shouldered, muscular and taller than Morse, he really was no match for the man. But he could still try right? Morse lashed out with the heavy glass to keep some distance between him and Cole. But the other quickly avoided the strike by inches. Holding still, he looked at him with furious eyes. 

'That was a bad move detective.' He growled and was getting ready to attack again. 

'Please, let me go through that door Matthews. No harm will come to you, I promise. But don't hold me here against my will. There will be a lot of consequences if you do so, I can assure you that.' Morse said still holding the bottle in front of him with a lingering threat. 

Cole stayed quiet. 

'Please.' Morse pleaded hoping the brute was in any state of negotiation. He had to be clever, not by muscle, but by words then. He first had to stop provoking him. 

'Please, if you will unlock the door, I'll put this on the ground. Yes?' Morse held eye contact with him while placing his weapon slowly on the floor.

'Taking orders from a policeman? You have some balls kid.' 

Suddenly Cole made his way right to Morse and kicked the bottle from his hands, while Morse tried everything to defend himself from the direct impact. Cole grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his back. Morse cried out and kicked against his shins. 

'That's enough!' Cole snarled and brought a hand to his neck while pushing him facefirst in the ground overpowering the man with ease. 

Morse shuddered when his skin made contact with the cold tiles of the floor and felt Cole's breath against his neck. His head hurt, everything simple hurt. Goddamned! He was so close! He thought. 

For a moment they just panted. 

'Thats a funny looking hand you have there. Smart. That's how you got rid of the handcuffs right?' His hand left his neck and moved over to his damaged hand. 

Morse tried to shove his hand away, no way he'd let the man hurt him more. But he was held sternly in place and couldn't go anywhere not with his weight on him, almost pushing all air out of his lungs. 

Cole simple cupped his hand over his and pinched it slightly. Morse cried out in pain. 

'Oh, that looked like it hurt. Maybe broken in more places than one, right?' He said mockingly and pinched it again getting more cries out of the young man. 

'There are some people here who are anxious to meet you. Be a good boy and greet them will ya. Or I will break your other hand as well. We clear?' Morse sobbed quietly, warm tears streamed down his face, after a moment he nodded. Realizing he had no choice but to do as he was told.


	10. Chapter 10

Cole helped him up to his feet, like he was nothing but a light-weight. He let go of his arm and placed a hand on his shoulder blades pushing him lightly to the direction of the door and thus, the living room. Morse couldn't help but freeze when he raised a hand to grab the handle. 'Who, are the ones waiting for me if I may ask.' He said his voice sounded unsure and gritty but still with a pinch of arrogance. 

'Just some important quests who arranged the house and all of this. So be nice will ya and answer their questions.' The man behind him said simple in an authoritative tone. 

Morse really didn't like where this was heading. He'd heard some stories about double agents and spies who were discovered during their services in the underworld of criminal organizations. Who were tortured in any horrible way possible, just so they could get their hands on any information and more. If they couldn't find any use for the agent anymore they just got disposed of him or her. In other words the spies or double agents were rarely kept alive. 

Like he or she was nothing more than a used up doll, just a paw, a tool used in a game of masterminds, in a war for money and power. Thats the only motive that brought them to do the terrible things they did. The only two things that mattered to them, Morse thought. He just hadn't expected that he would turn out to be, the one who was getting exploited. 

Well he better showed up with some dignity then. He would figure out a new plan later. Morse sniffed and wiped away the tears from his cheeks and eyes and tried to button up the shirt he was wearing. Closing the exposed skin for the eager eyes behind the door. 

'No, leave it.' the other man said with a devious smile. 'And walk.' 

'What?!' Before Morse had any say in the matter, Cole opened the door and shoved him right in the big room. 4 men where standing or sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, 3 other men were enjoying a glass of whisky on a big white leader couch by the windows. 

Two of them looked rather fancy, the other was wearing an expensive looking colbert and the man next to him a simple white shirt. Him and Morse had crossed paths before, he immediately recognized the man in mid-40s, from the police station. When he was a suspect of a gang murder, his name was Arlen. He have had a heated argument with the man, when it came to acknowledging his authority during the hearing. Morse had won with his sharp words and cunning mind, but the man still walked out free. 

His dark blue eyes found Morse's. Morse was blushing like hell, this was so humiliating, he thought. With one hand he held his shirt closed, his knuckles coloured white by the effort. Why did this happen to him. Of all things, why this. Shame crept over his back.

When he made his way into the living room, it grew quiet right away. All eyes were instantly focused on him, he felt like a goddamn showpony. 

Cole pushed him in the back to the crime lords and muttered something to one of his men to look upstairs for the other one, Morse almost stumbled but walked. 

'Well, well, there is our junior detective. Who knows a lot I've heard.' The man with the fancy looking colbert said. 'How is your stay?' 

'Not very pleasant if you're really that interested.' Morse snapped, he didn't had time for fake courtesies. He just wanted to know what they want from him and get it over with. 

There was a slight pause. The man eyed him for a moment. 'I see, Cole was a bit harsh on you wasn't he. Well he's known for his quick-temper. But what else could you expect, you've been a thorn in my eye for the past couple of years. You would have been dead if it wasn't for the deal you made with this wonderful man.' He said and gestured gallantly to the brute beside Morse.

But Morse was distracted by the smug face of Arlen, that angered him in more ways than he had expected. The criminal watched the two for a second. 

'Oh, I think you two have met before, wasn't it?' 

'Yes, we have.' Morse said with an ice cold voice. He refused to give Arlen the satisfaction to see him broken and defeated. He just couldn't. The detective never had forgotten about him in the first place, the criminal they couldn't bring to justice. Even when everyone was so sure about his guilt, somehow the evidence got missing or got stolen... To never be seen again.

'At the police station to be precise and now here we are, the other way around funny how live goes sometimes wouldn't you agree little detective.' Arlen said with a smile. 

'It's detective Morse.' Morse corrected him angry. 

'Yes, yes, detective Endeavour Morse.' The man with the colbert interrupted. 'Who lives alone and has an unrequited love for the beautiful daughter of mr. Thursday, who at this moment is safe and sound with her mother, although she cries a lot. Very sad. She has a desperate need to see you again. Whole and well.' Morse grasped, were they keeping an eye on her?! 

'So let's not give her more sorrow then she already has, that would otherwise not be very decent.' He spoke like a gentleman with good intentions. But the suggestion was plain as day to Morse, this was a dangerous man. Clearly Cole's superior. 

'What's it you want.' Before he even thought about it, the words had escaped his mouth. 

'You're a clever little man, I'm sure you can sort that out for yourself.' Arlan said and stood up from the couch. Closing the distance between him and Morse, still holding a glass of whisky in his hand.

'Information.' The younger man said thoughtfully.

'Yes, starting with your pain in the ass colleague. Fred Thursday. Tell us his morning routine, his favourite pub, his favourite drink. Tell us and we leave your beautiful crush alone for the night.' Arlen said in a mocking tone and lazily placed an arm over his shoulder, Morse stiffened and had to withhold himself from punching this man right in the guts. 

'Or don't and feel the consequences here.' He pointed at his heart, almost touching the fabric of his shirt. 'You know what I mean, right? Detective?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, hell yeah! two chapters in a row! Also the 10th chapter men, maybe I'm a lil' proud of that hihi.  
> Thank you for reading <3  
> And yet again thank you for all the sweet comments that motivated me to keep writing :)  
> Kudos as always are welcome ;)  
> Let's see where this story will go.  
> <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay!  
> I had a lot on my mind these past weeks. So I hope you like it :)

What else could he do then go with it? It was not like he had a damn choice of sorts.

Protect Joan, at all costs. The thought repeated itself like a mantra inside his head. Joan was his everything, she would always be his everything, no doubt in that. But first he had to make sure she wasn't in immediate danger, that really was the only thing that mattered. 

If he has to make some sacrifices to assure her survival, then so be it! But... on the other hand. Betraying Fred Thursday, was a different kind of worse, Morse just couldn't bring himself to actualize. He was a loyal man, a real friend, one who would never give in to blackmail and thereby getting entangled in a criminal underworld. His whole being protested against the idea of betraying a close friend and colleague. 

His body began trembling slightly because of the inner fight he had within himself to make a rather ambiguous decision. 

What had he gotten himself into, Morse thought tired and irritated, he damned his sharp tongue sometimes. But in the end, he would alway figure out a solution to get himself out of the most dire situations. He just had to use his wits and clear his head of the rage that was caused by the threat of Arlan.

Then suddenly an old memory came to mind, something he learned way back.

What was the saying? When lying, keep as close to the facts as possible. Without revealing any real things that could endanger a life or an important organization. He still could picture the old ex-spy giving lectures at the police academy about how to act when gotten captured for information. Advice no one thought necessary, but how live saving it actually was now.

'Ah come one, you really want to put her life on the line for your stubbornness and pride? Well, I must say that brings you in a very different light my friend.' Arlan said with a smug smile and was still keeping a heavy arm around his shoulders, one hand braced his thin and painfully bruised shoulder. Something he'd incurred while wrestling with Cole in the hallway a while back.

The black haired man took a sip from his scotch, he stood so close to Morse, he could smell the alcohol in his breath, Morse carefully turned his face away, so the other wouldn't notice the unease he felt.

Morse tried to lower his heartbeat a bit before replying to the threatening atmosphere he found himself in. 

'Come on ginger did you lose your tongue or something?' Arlan said with a harsh tone straight in his ear.

He would give in, but he would not be ridiculed by this, this garbage of a man. 

'Can you not scream in my ear like a half-wit, really there is no need. I got the message already. Alright? Now get your arm of me.' Morse aggressively pushed away his arm and created some distance between them provoking an indignant reaction from a not-so-smug face anymore.

The man in the colbert laughed, amused by the scene that played out before him. 

'Feisty little one are ya.-..' 'Yes, I may be,' Morse interrupted him. I will cooperate with you, but I will not be treated like some weak blackmailed guy you can benefit from. I have my limits and rights here, even if that may sound alien too any of you!'

'Watch your tone detective, you're in our mids now so behave and do what is asked of ya, you hear me boy?' Cole said from the other side of the room. 

'No! I will not be treated like-..' Suddenly Arlan lashed out and smacked him straight out of his disrespectful rave. Morse almost saw stars but the other grabbed his chin violently and looked him straight in the eye, with a dangerous glow.

'You really are dumper than they give you credit for, just look at yourself. Really, are you in any condition to just go and make demands? Hm? Guess who's boys are keeping an eye on your beloved Joan at the moment. Guess who gives the orders to kill or injure her so badly or worse, she would never be the same again? Guess little detective. And yes, that's me. I'll have my guys all over her if I just give the word. So let me get this straight. If you even try to be so disrespectful again to my boss, me or to anyone in here. I will not hesitate to capture her again and keep her here for me or my guys, for simply the sake of pleasure, if you know what I mean.' He grinned, as if he'd just told the most funniest joke ever.

Morse couldn't believe this. This guy, the one he loathed almost more in his life than anything else. Decided over the fate of his love. He didn't assume things went from worse to straight out terrible. How wrong he was. This was just a sick joke, nothing else. 

'So dearest Morse, no more demands, no more tantrums, no more attempting to escape. You'll do as we ask you to do. So no more resistance. You hear me little ginger? Because if you do not, I will not be merciful.' His piercing gray and blue eyes didn't lie, for the first time the real monster underneath all the fancy clothing, the dashing smile and the heavy cologne appeared. The killer that committed the murder all those years ago. 

Morse swallowed thickly. 

'You understand? Yes or no.' He didn't gave an answer. Morse tried to loosen his grip but that was just a futile attempt, Arlan just pinched his jaw harder, forcing him to answer. 

'Yes… I understand.' The detective mumbled. 

'Good.' He let go of his jaw and raised his glass joyfully. 

'On our understanding!' He said in a cheerful tone and brought the glass to his lips, to drink the last bit of scotch. 

Morse rubbed the sore skin around his cheeks, the dangerous aura he had felt around the man was gone again. But something had broken inside of him. Maybe it was his pride, Morse didn't know and simply didn't care anymore he was tired as hell and his whole body felt more numb and painful than ever. 

Suddenly the other snaked his arm around his waist, provoking a disgusted expression on Morse's face. 

'So, little detective, it's time to answer some questions. Who is Fred Thursday really. Is he a loving father? Will he do everything for his little gem? What does he eat for breakfast, what's his regular pub?' He sighed, realizing this was far from over. Seemingly innocent questions, but he knew there were consequences attached to it. But at the same time Morse knew his colleague had an iron will and a wit like no other, wouldn't be in immediate danger.

He could handle this and so he did. Stay with the facts but don't reveal anything injurious, he thought to himself. 

For a whole humiliating hour he had to stand before the men on the couch, while Arlan circled around him. Asking questions about his partner in crime. Enjoying every minute of it.  
It was harder than he thought. It felt like an interrogation, but without any politeness, this man really knew how to strip away the lies to get to the bottom of the truth. He really knew how to get under someones skin. The detective answered every question as sly as he could. 

But after a while Morse began to shake a little, it required a lot of his body to keep standing without getting off balance. After more than an hour nausea flooded his mind, he felt a sharp feeling in his throat and began to cough viciously into his hands. Someone held him up from falling to the ground. 

Morse saw some thin splashes of red on his hands. The interrogation came to an end. Cole brought him back to his room, while he kept on coughing. 

Finally when he felt the soft sheets on his skin and lay down, it felt like heaven. The pain in his throat and lungs numbed out a bit. Too tired to do anything about the needle that was pushed into his skin, he immediately fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Morse awoke to the sound of quiet muttering. Two silhouettes stood by his bed, discussing something. He had a slight feeling it was about him. But the darkness drew him back in a tight dreamless sleep. 

Sometimes he felt a strange sting in his arm, but the only thing he remembered was the thrumming beat of his heart.

The next thing he woke up to was Arlan's face glooming over him. 

'Finally you're awake, we began to worry a bit after a while, little ginger.' Morse frowned at the petname. 

'There'll be a doctor here soon. A confidant of ours, but still I'd like you to keep your mouth shut about who you are, you are just one of us, someone who works for me, yeah? Technically not entirely wrong, but I need you to understand this, if not. Well... we may lose a doctor permanently, I think.' Arlan said in a threatening tone. 

Morse knew what that meant. He nodded, still a bit sleepy.  
The doorbell rang, He heard someone coming up the stairs, in a rather hastily manner.

'Come in doc, he's awake.' The door opened.

An old looking fellow with a tuft of hair on the top of his head entered the room, he stumbled a little and didn't look entirely at ease. Well what would you expect in a house full of criminals, Morse thought bitterly. 

'So, I've heard you had a rough night. First can you show me your hand please this broken thumb needs to be examined properly.' The man muttered, he reminded Morse more of an absent-minded professor, doing mad experiments in his secret lab than a professional doctor. Probably another victim of blackmail, forced to take care of any wounded men of Arlan's gang. 

Their eyes met for a split second and suddenly Morse's heartbeat increased immediately. He knew this man and this man recognized him too, he saw that slight sparkle in his eyes. Before he lowered his gaze to his damaged hand. They had spoken once or twice a year ago, when Morse was investigating a robbery of a girl and this man had helped the victim with her wounds and bruises at a first aid practice in Oxford. 

In other words, if this man played his roll right and didn't give Arlan or his men the slightest clue, that he actually knew Morse. This... This would save him. This man could be his savior. Morse couldn't believe his luck, maybe there was a god after all, mocking him but watching over him at the same time.

After he'd putted proper bandage around his thumb and had examined and nursed the bruises on his upper-body and pinpointed a broken rib, the doctor began packing his things. Morse took a quick glance behind him and saw that Arlan was busy commanding a couple of his guys. He grabbed the arm of the doctor and locked their eyes again. It was now or never, he thought. 

'You know me, help me. Please. Lives are at stake here.' He whispered, with a slight panic in his voice. There was fear in the eyes of the doctor but also a hint of pity. As if he felt sorry for the young detective and the awful situation he got himself into. But he nodded almost invisible and quickly stood up from the bed, just in time before Morse's archenemy turned around, to thank and escort the doctor back to the door. 

'Always a pleasure doctor, give my regards to your niece, until next time!' Morse heard him say. Damn, he thought. They had this man right in their pockets, threatening his family like that. Morse began to hesitate if the man even was, capable of saving him.

Quietly he hoped that the doctor had the balls to go to the police station and do what was necessary, without being terrified of the consequences. There was something like a save house right? The doctor must have been aware of that. Morse could only hope.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

 

It's been weeks.

The majority of the time Morse just lay in bed, resting and healing the wounds and bruises on his body. 

Three times a week they took him downstairs to interrogate him about the police department, certain cases he'd worked on and of course the Thursdays. It became more, more and more difficult to keep important information from them. When they got to the bottom of a lie and unveiled the truth, Morse just felt himself crumble and dying bit by bit inside. He almost cried once, when he couldn't sleep because of the guilt he felt of his betrayal. 

Sometimes it was really quiet in the house. He wondered then if someone even was watching over him. But he didn't dare escape again. First of all, he had no clue where he was. He was wounded and weak. Had no vehicle to hurry himself to Joan's. And if he managed to escape this hellhole, what would he even get out of it? Arlan let his men take Joan without a thought. Everything he'd endured had been for nothing then. The man knew this and didn't even had taken the effort to cuff him. Because he knew, Morse wouldn't try to escape anymore. 

Arlan had him right where he wanted him to be. There was no denying in that. Morse hated every second of it, but still, went along with him and obeying his so called commands. 

Another week went by, Morse slowly realized the doctor hadn't helped him. The selfish coward! He became frustrated and angry, but couldn't blame the man. It was him or probably his family, his niece. Morse had done the same if Joan's life was on the line. 

After another week of interrogations and accidentally revealing very sensitive information. Morse anger flew into a rather depressive mood. He didn't feel the need to escape anymore, he just wanted to lay down and shield himself under his bedsheets, from this house, this situation, this gang, Arlan and mostly himself. 

It was evening and raining outside, he listened to the ticking on the gutter nearby his window and tried to ignore the noise downstairs. 

There was some kind of celebration, he didn't need to know why. 

Really, he just didn't want to know. 

Morse could hear there was alcohol. The noise grew by the hour and the hard laughter increased by the minute. He became a bit concerned and wary, irritable guys in an environment like this one soon turned aggressive towards each other. Morse just hoped the floor was thick enough to stop any flying bullets.

He sighed and changed his position on the bed, maybe for the hundredth time this evening and stared at the painting on the wall of an English countryside, with some sheep and an old farm.

The colors were faded lightly, it was old and dull. A meager consolation to make his accommodation a little more 'homely'. 

He hated the painting and almost had damaged the thing, while throwing a glass of water at it. But now he just tried to picture himself in it. Picture the fields, the freedom he felt behind his driving rudder, the smell of fresh mowed grass and the feeling of the wind, touching his face. 

He almost smiled at the thought of it. 

Suddenly he heard someone coming upstairs, with a heavy and slow pace, the strange footsteps made their way to his door. Morse instantly grew cold. Grabbing his sheets so tight his knuckles colored white, he sat up and prepared himself for the worst.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad after writing this TT_TT  
> I've never written non-con before, but I tried my best. Enjoy <3

The door creaked open, a dark silhouette stood in the doorway. The night lights outside illuminated the room, Morse began shaking a little, more out of anger than fear. What did this man even think, disturbing him in his sleep. Morse couldn't make out the person standing before him, but he sure as hell wasn't afraid, he was outraged. It was in the middle of the night, for God's sake, party or no party, what was the man even thinking coming up here.

'Uh, sorry, whoever you are. Can you please go back to whatever celebration you have downstairs and let me sleep here in peace.' He said in a calm and clear tone. 

Suddenly he heard other footsteps coming up the stairs. Probably Cole taking the man away from his well guarded door. Those were his orders, although Morse knocked one of his man down during his 'epic' attempt to escape, causing a concussion so severe the man was suffering from temporary memory loss. Cole kept his anger at bay but there was some resent, Morse felt it when he brought his meal or supported him to the bathroom. He didn't care though.

'Boss, what are you doing here?' Cole asked, rather surprised. Boss? Morse thought.

'I don't know, but I think someone needs to learn a lesson don't you agree?' Arlan's voice echoed in the room. Morse grew cold, he didn't like the way this was heading. He really didn't want another beating, he finally had recovered a little from last and his chest began hurting less each time he breathed in. Morse couldn't risk this. 

'Arlan, what are you talking about? I've done everything you asked me to do. I just want to sleep, please.' He said, a bit on edge now.  
Finally the raven haired man stepped into the illuminating lights from the streets and laid a hand on the end of his bed, showing a certain way of dominance

'Maybe, maybe you are just a damn good liar. Who knows? Although you gave us some information we could finally work with and that gave us a bit of victory.' Arlan stepped a bit closer to the left side of the bed, his expression unreadable.

'But with your pretty words and astonishing good English. You never, ever thanked us for anything. We protect you, we take care of you, give you meals 3 times a day, we let a doctor check you up. You never say thank you Arlan, thank you Cole or whoever guards your door at night. No. You just nag and still hold that disrespectful attitude of yours to whoever stands before you. Thinking you own this place. My place. My house.'

Morse's anger silently transformed into fear, his hands grew cold and sweaty. He didn't liked the atmosphere around this man now. Unconsciously Morse raised his knees up to his chest and still held the blanket over his body. His heart rate increased. The criminal sat down on his bed, creating a gap in the mattress, Morse shoved himself slowly away from him an uncomfortable feeling crawled up in the back of his mind. 

He was still estimating this situation, but really was wondering now what Arlan was playing at. 

'No, it's time I teach you a lesson in humility. Little Endeavour.' It's been the first time he said his first name, but the way he'd said it, in a tender loving way, sent chills down Morse's spine and suddenly the penny dropped, like a stone in a river. That strange unreadable stare in his eyes was a dark and hungry desire for something more than just a beating, no it was a sadistic way of showing power over somebody else. Owning someone's mind, someone's body... Morse instantly knew what he was planning to do. 

The hunger hung heavily in the air now. The sudden urge to flee raged through his system, he stood up from his bed quickly, planning to push Cole away from the doorway to make his escape. He didn't know where to, anywhere but here. 

It all happened in a haze, He clashed against Cole's big form sooner than he'd expected, bringing him immediately out of balance, Arlan grabbed his arm from behind and dragged him back onto the bed, with more force than Morse could comprehend. 

'What the hell, let go of me! Are you out of your mind! I'm sorry, alright. Thank you for everything! Ok? Is that what you want to hear?' He yelled, 'There, I said it, now let me go, please!'

'So many demands, again, you still haven't learned a thing did you?' Arlan said, unmoved by his words.

Morse looked to his right, trying to find any help in Cole, but the man just stood there and watched them quietly. Letting his boss have his way. 

He couldn't believe what was happening to him and tried to push him away with all the strength he had. Trying to defend himself from the man’s desire. But Arlan just forced himself on top of him making Morse cry out in agony because of the bruises and the broken rib that weren't fully healed yet. The man took his chance and tried to strip away his night clothing. 

But the moment he got his hands on his pants Morse recovered instantly and tried to kick him with his legs. Trying to get lose and squirm away from underneath him, trying everything he could, to get out of this situation that was planning to violate his whole being. But he wasn't in any state to fight, hell, he wasn't even a match for Arlan's brute force. 

Arlan grabbed his thin wrists, pinned them harshly above his head and locked their eyes, in some kind of sick powerplay, their faces incredibly close, Morse immediately turned his head away and couldn't escape the heavy alcoholic smell coming from his mouth. 

'You know, I really hated it at the police station. That stale room. All those aimless interrogations going nowhere. Those accusation, ugh, a terrible thing. But every time I saw you all mature and tight. I just couldn't help but wonder.' With just one hand he held him still, the other crept under his shirt touching the skin on his belly intimately. 'How you would look underneath me, squirming and struggling with your thin feminine body against mine, suddenly not so sure of yourself anymore and to see pure panic in those big beautiful eyes.' He said, 

Morse felt disgusted by those words. And tried to keep all his focus at the painting on the wall and tried his best to ignore anything coming from his mouth. 

'At one moment, when you talked to me and it was just the two of us in that room alone.' His hand crept up slowly to his heart and stroked his nipples. Morse bit his tongue when a shiver of pleasure created goosebumps all over his body. With a sadistic fascination in his eyes, Arlan observed his reaction. 'Sensitive are we.' He said mockingly. 'But when I was alone with you, those 15 minutes. I just grew the biggest boner of my life, imagining you tight deep, riding my dick.' Morse kicked him right in his manhood then. Arlan breathed in, trying his hardest to withhold himself from screaming out of pain. 

Morse tried to wriggle his wrists lose assuming his hold would loosen up by that kick. but instead Arlan's laid his whole bodyweight on him for support, his grip almost crushed his wrists. Morse cried, but again attempted to kick him away with his legs. Anything, anything but this, his mind screamed. 'You're sick! You don't have to do this!' He yelled.

Arlan clearly grew tired of this annoying behavior, 'Alright, I think I deserved that one. But that hurt like hell you little shit.' Arlan hissed, clenched his hand and slammed his fist right against Morse's cheek. Making him black out for a moment. 

Morse's head lulled to his left. Opening and closing his eyes again and again, his ears ringed. He looked at the painting on the wall, a tear rolled over his cheek. The criminal took advantage of Morse's dizzying state by popping the buttons of his shirt open and stripping away his pants. Leaving him in nothing but his boxer and an open ruined night shirt. 

He shrinked by his touch and made himself as small as possible, to contain any dignity his body had left, but Arlan had nothing of that and forced him right back, laid bare before him. 

Morse's will to fight flew away from him the moment Arlan had punched him in the face, all of the strength he had, was wasted in his last futile attempt to escape the man and this madness. He'd overpowered him with ease. There was no chance at escaping to begin with he realized. 

'You are so beautiful like this, you know that?' The criminal gasped into his ear. His mouth ghosted over his exposed neck. Warm and wet. Morse felt nausea rise up in the back of his throat and began struggling again, but it was hopeless. 

'Please, stop, anything but this, anything, I'd do anything. Please.' Morse begged, 'you don't have to do this.' His voice broke into thousands of pieces, for the first time in ages Morse began to cry before a man. 

'Oh my pretty beauty detective, there is no turning back now.' He said in a devious tone, with hungry eyes, he kissed away a tear streaming down his painfully bruised cheek and worked his way over his neck to his collarbone. Biting and kissing the tender skin there. Morse shivered, pleasure build up unwillingly, he tried everything to resist this feeling. 

But his body began betraying his mind, it's been so long someone touched him like this. He hated it, he just wanted to disappear into nothing, 

First he betrayed everything he stood for, working together with criminals vowed to defeat and now he was forced into something more disgraceful than anything else and he was liking it. 

No, no this wasn't real, just a dream, no more no less, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter number 13.  
> What a coincidence the non-con started in this chapter, or is it ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason it was incredibly hard to write this during daylight x)  
> But there it is, I've never written non-con like this before, so hopefully it's enjoyable haha  
> (I feel utterly terrible now)

'Please stop it.' He muttered. Morse once again tried to wriggle himself free from underneath the broad chest of his captor. But it was just another futile attempt, from something that couldn't be prevented anymore. 

He just didn't want to give in to the pleasure that was building up in his groin. He couldn't help it, the way Arlan's tongue swept around his nipples and left behind a slick and warm trail, a straight line directly to his flat and pale belly. The goosebumps embraced his arms and back, making him swim in a variety of hidden sensations, he never thought he would feel.

But this was his captor, forcing himself upon him. It was making him sick. This was sick, the urge to get out struck him more than ever now. Again he struggled against the tight grip Arlan had around his wrists. 

'Stop it! I'm not gay, you can't just do this to me.' 

'For gods sake, Morse, just give in already. I'm not either, but somehow you have a charm around yourself that drives the most straight men mad.' A warm hand palmed the bulge growing inside his pants. Morse jerked his hips away, a whine escaped his lips. 

'Be happy I make this a nice experience for you. Although, I don't have to do a lot to make you anymore comfortable than you already are it seems,' He laughed, rubbing his hand over the fabric around his half hard cock. 

Morse closed his eyes tightly in an effort to avoid any eyecontact. He couldn't believe he just moaned out loud, he rolled his head to the direction of the painting, shame colored his cheeks. He tried everything to conceal his unwilling pleasure. 

'Just look at you. I'm sure you're loving every moment of this all ready.' Arlan kissed his cheeks tenderly. 'Just give in.' a warm breath against the side of his neck tickled his nerves, making him shudder, but the alcoholic smell made him nauseas. It was a constant battle between the two, pleasure and utter disgust and shame. 

The hand suddenly glided underneath his waistband gripping his manhood in a broad hand. Morse froze at once. His racing mind stopped instantly and for a moment, time seemed to stop. It took him a lot of effort to process the hand on the most private and vulnerable part of his body. Suddenly everything felt so unreal. The disgusting man touching him like a toy, like something he just owned, the prying eyes he felt from his right or the way his body was betraying him. Like he really was, nothing at all. Just a puppet men could play with and get rid of once it's lost it's glimmer. 

No! He didn't want this. But when he felt the hand pumping him, the strong and experienced hand of his captor. Morse began to shudder, while Arlan still pinned him harshly against the mattress. The ragged breath Morse gasped out sounded somewhere between a groan and a whimper. He pressed his face into his shoulder trying to muffle himself. When Morse's eyes rolled out of pleasure to the back of his skull, the hands suddenly disappeared as well as Arlan's whole weight. Morse was dazzled for a moment by the withdrawal of Arlan's grip on him and the sudden freedom he experienced. 

He immediately saw his chance to escape. Without second thought he pushed himself up with his newly found strength, but he was soon knocked down again by another pair of hands.

'That's it, Cole you hold him down for me will ya?' Cole's dangerous eyes made contact with his, telling him all ready everything he needed to know if he even thought of fighting back, immediately Morse stilled in his grip. Flashes of his treatment in the past made his skin crawl, he still was recovering from the wounds and bruises this man had inflicted upon him. 

Feeling him so close, made Morse more timid and fearful than ever. 

He closed his eyes, eyelids burned and filled up with tears, when he realized he couldn't do anything to prevent this. He was to weak to fight a strong ruthless man like Arlan or Cole. The less he struggled the faster this would all be over, his mind was telling him. He gave up.

While Cole pinned his hands above his head again in a firm but slow manner, Morse let him. He didn't prevent Arlan stripping away his boxers, but when he heard the clicking of a bottle opening and the sick sound of liquid smearing on Arlan's hands. Morse opened his eyes again, crystal blue eyes met dark brown ones in a last attempt to plead Cole to protect him, 'Please,' He whispered desperately, tears streaming down his red cheeks. But Cole just held him still. While the other was ready to prepare him. 

He gulped when a cold wet finger began circling his hole. Instinctively Morse flinched away but another hand was firmly placed on his hip, holding him still. He forced his big finger in, Morse groaned silently. 

'No, don't.' He cried. It burned, another finger eased in, he scissored him open. 

'So tight, am I your first?' Morse ignored his remark and looked straight to the wall on his right. 

'Well, who would have thought, I feel honored.' He said and began pumping him roughly, while his other hand stroked his member in a steady rhythm. Morse gasped out of pleasure but immediately bit his tongue to keep his mouth shut. 

After what felt like forever, Arlan removed his fingers, making Morse's hole feel empty and cold, it made him twitch and yearn for more. He felt the gaping of the mattress while the heavier man settled himself in between his legs, shame and disgust clawed over his whole being, but the pleasure was undeniably present. He couldn't fight it anymore.

The big warm form of Arlan's cock eased into him, it hurt, making Morse anxious that it wouldn't fit. 

But Arlan pushed himself further and further in ignoring Morse's many complaints and cries until he was balls deep inside him. 

'Shut it already Endeavour just enjoy the ride.' 

'No, wait, it's too big!' But Morse's cry was muffled by a firm hand closing around his mouth, Cole aggressively pressed the side of his face into the pillow. Mutting him almost completely. 

Arlan slowly retreated his cock and slammed it back in, making Morse struggle and scream and moan all together. He felt the walls of his rectum widen in a painful angle, while the other thrusts in him with full force, adapting a violent rhythm that teared him apart and forced his inner walls to habituate. 

After a while Morse began seeing stars because of the pressure Cole caused on his mouth and half his nose by pushing him directly in the pillow, withheld him to breath properly. For a moment Morse almost passed out of lack of oxygen. 

Hands flipped him over on his stomach, he gasped and breathed in. Morse's mind was swimming and didn't know what was happening anymore. Two warm possessive hands brought his hips up, while the other hands held one arm in a painful angle. 

When Arlan slammed his dick inside again, it touched a spot Morse didn't knew he had. 

His body burst out in ecstasy, he moaned uncontrollably and clawed with his other hand to the side of the bed. Grabbing desperately anything to keep himself in the present. But Arlan touched that spot over and over again until Morse was losing himself completely giving into the immense pleasure that rolled over him in waves. Until his cock ached to come already. 

'You wanne come pretty little virgin?' Arlan suddenly whispered dangerously close in his ear. He hadn't even noticed Cole was gone. Arlan bend over his form and felt his damp breath against his neck. 'How about you wait a little more.'

Arlan snaked a hand around his throat and grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth to open. Suddenly he felt another leaking member pressing against his cheek, he froze. 

'If you even remotely think of biting down, I will shoot Joan myself within an hour. You understand?' Morse didn't say anything, but he was too far gone to resist anymore of Arlan's commands. 

So he closed his eyes tightly and let the cock of Cole slides past his lips, a groan escaped above him. Morse tasted the pre-cum and salt in his mouth, in a swift move his cock touched the back side of his throat making him buckle and almost puke, tears escaped his closed eyelids. 

But Cole and also Arlan kept him in place, while both took their pleasure from his body, pumping in and out from both sides. Hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, clawing and kneading his butt cheeks and every bare piece of skin they could find. Morse couldn't think straight anymore and tried to bring his hand to his aching cock for release, but Arlan grabbed his wrist and twisted it harshly behind his back. 

'Who said you could come already?' He said threatening. Arlan smiled when the smaller man arched his hips to meet his. 

'You wanna come that bad? All right then.' Arlan grabbed his dick and stroked him in the same rhythm, Morse's body went along with the thrusts. 

With one last hard stroke he came all over. His body twisted and turned, Morse blanked out for a moment, while the other two also reached their peak. 

Everything begun feeling raw and painful, he just wanted this to end all ready. First Arlan came and shortly after Cole shot his warm cum in the back of his throat, making Morse gag. 

'You swallow,' He said while removing his already limb cock from his mouth. 

Morse coughed but Cole closed his hand over his mouth again, forcing him to do what he was told. Nausea burned his throat. Morse coughed again and buckled, but after a while managed to swallow the bitter substance down. The hand disappeared as well as the other weight on the mattress, making the bed creak. 

Everything hurt, Morse couldn't move, his mind was spinning, he didn't know what felt more agonizing the way his insides and heavily abused body hurt or the fact that he was raped by two men and just let it happen and even had enjoyed it a little. 

Shame crawled over his back when he felt warm liquid dripping down from his abused hole, knowing it had to be a mix of cum and something else. Blood probably. 

The other two dressed themselves up, like nothing had happened. 

Morse hugged himself and tried to make himself as small as possible. Shaking, panting and trembling all over. The sudden smack on his butt made him flinch. 

'That was a good ride, You're sure you ain't a little bit gay? Because you really enjoyed yourself a bit too much if you ask me.' Arlan said in a hazy but mocking tone. Morse said nothing and kept his gaze straight towards the painting on the wall, imagining the grass under his feet, or the cold fresh mountain wind clearing his head, or the smell of flowers and freshly baked bread. 

'Nothing to say anymore? Good. You finally learned your lesson then.' He said and brushed his hand through his curls in a playful but possessive manner. 

The two men walked away from him. They closed the door behind them and left in a pretty joyful mood. 

Morse could only stare at the wall and kept the ruined shirt close around him, like it was the only thing that held him from falling apart.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some hurt and comfort T-T

Morse didn't know what time it was or when he'd passed out. But somehow it felt like weeks when he opened his eyes. Everything hurt, everything was a mess and sticky as hell, from his lower back to his head and arms. His head hurt from the many hits he'd received and his wrists were swollen and purple, he didn't dare look down. He felt so incredibly ashamed and disgusted, the feeling almost tore him apart. 

He'd commit a murder if anyone saw him like this now.

Suddenly a knock came from the door, Morse stiffened his heart skipped a beat, he tried to cover himself quickly. Before the man behind the door got any strange ideas. He felt like a goddamn damsel in distress, Morse formed his hand into a painful fist, they needed to leave him alone, he have had enough painful memories to worry about all ready. 

Anger began flowing in his veins. He was and still is a successful detective, someone who could stand his ground by any means necessary, someone with a sharp mind, one who could fight and locked serial killers behind bars. Not some kind of puppet men could just play with! 

Or was he? The last couple of words sent chills over his spine, were did that thought come from? 

The door opened, Morse immediately grabbed his pillow, ready to throw anything to the intruder.

A younger looking man with brown hair stood in the doorway. 

'Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you.' He held his hands up to gesture his good intentions. 

'And sorry but throwing a pillow isn't really gonna help you at the moment.' Cole's younger brother said. 

'Peter.' Morse muttered, startled by the way his voice sounded, raw and dehydrated. 

'Come on, let's get you cleaned up.' Peter handed him a bathrobe. 

'You can put this on, I'm not gonna carry a half naked man to the bathroom.' Morse cringed by those simple words, somehow it hurt his pride in more ways than one, at least, what was left of it. 

He never thought he'd be so relieved to feel the soft fabric in his hands and thesweet smell of laundry soap, the indication of something fresh and clean, distracting him from the terrible stench that hung in his room. A grateful feeling burned inside him when he felt it gliding over his skin, securing every vulnerable or damaged spot on his body.

'You don't have to carry me,' He said and coughed, even his throat felt swollen, but then a flashback struck him of Cole's cock forcing himself deep inside his throat, the taste of it still lingered in his mouth, making him sick to the bone. He stood up slowly but coughed and gagged and almost fell over. 'Alright, come on let's get you to the bathroom already.' Peter said and catched him before he hit the floor by placing an arm around his waist and hooking Morse's arm over his shoulder. They walked slowly, every step felt agonizing for Morse. Tears stung in his eye when they finally entered the small bathroom. 

'Easy.' Peter said when he placed Morse on the edge of the blue colored bathtub. 

The younger man turned on the shower and let it warm up for a couple of minutes. 

'I'm gonna get some towels, be right back.' Morse watched him leave the room, turned his head to the shower and just stared as the drops fell down in a small pool of water. Another strange thought occurred to him, what if he could make himself smaller and hide away in that small bit of water, while no one would miss him or noticed that he'd dissolved? No one would miss him or even care if he was gone. 

Especially no one as filthy and spent like a slum whore on drugs. It's been over a month since he got here and still no one had discovered the headquarters of his captors, maybe they didn't try as hard as Morse thought they would. Maybe they had given him up and didn't care anymore, how many people even liked him back at the police station? Morse didn't know, but began questioning the people he called friends. He began questioning himself if he was even right anymore about anyone or everything. Who he was and what exactly had gotten him into this mess. 

Ofcourse, Arlan spoke of some kind of lesson about his disrespectful attitude and his nagging. That's it, it was his fault he got raped. The realization was crystal clear now. He damned his quick witty mouth, the reason he was hurt, the reason why he was taken captive, the reason why he was abused. Morse decided he wouldn't speak anymore, only when it truly was necessary.  
Peter returned with two towels, one creme colored the other one a soft green. 

'I give you an hour, after that I'll open the door, all right?' 

Morse nodded. Peter looked at him and his trembling frame for a second and then closed the door, Morse realized it was pity hidden in those dark green eyes. Again, shame crawled over his back like a wolf flaying it's nails over his skin, leaving marks of guilt and disgust.

Morse breathed in slowly to steady his fast beating heart. Steam of the hot running water filled the bathroom, he got up, hang his bathrobe on a hook and stepped slowly into the bathtub. Ignoring the terrible pain he felt in his lower back. He grabbed a bottle of soap that was placed on the counter and stepped into the welcoming stream of water, not minding the hotness that burned his skin. 

He began cleansing himself, making sure every part, were he still felt the lingering touch of hands and stickiness of sweat and saliva, was rubbed away with a heavy amount of soap and rinsed off. 

But when he found out the feeling of dirt didn't go away he began scrubbing it manically, until his skin became red. A knock on the door finally made him stop. Suddenly blackness and stars overtook his person and he fell forwards in a sea of water.

'It's time! can you turn of the shower please and dry yourself.' Peter called out, not entering the door this time, granting the man some privacy. When he didn't hear any responses from the other side and still heard the shower on. Peter stumbled in and found an unconscious Morse clinging on the side of the bathtub. 

He panicked and quickly shoved on his knees next to Morse, grabbing the younger detective's head in one hand and placing the other on his artery, feeling the too hot skin against his fingers.  
A stream of water fell on his arm while lifting the thin body out of the bathtub, he flinched away. 

'Shit, that water is boiling hot!' Quickly he turned of the shower. For a moment confused as in why the detective had showered in such a devious temperature, but then he noticed the many bruises and stripes on his neck and body, forming a path down his lower part. The pool of water colored a light red, indication of something bleeding. He stilled and gulped, his seen a lot of violence and beatings, but this made him quiver. 

Envy filled his chest. He instantly called for help and a well known doctor.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah sorry for the delay. It's been hectic.  
> This chap is kinda depressing :(

Morse just stared into nothing, his eyes missed the sparks it had before, they just looked hollow and incredibly tired, as if the fire was extinguished behind those once piercing blue eyes.  
Big purple bags hung under them. 

He just lay in bed all day, not bothering to move his body or walk around his room anymore, to train his muscles and keep his body fit for an eventual opportunity to flee. No. Just the thought of it made him cringe internally, knowing damn well the consequences if he failed, he still felt every compelling stroke, touch or the wetness of a tongue marking his body as theirs, feeling violated and overall dirty and used. 

It didn't matter how many times he showered or how hot the water was, the stench just wouldn't leave his skin. Sometimes he cried softly thinking about his one true love while shame crippled his dignity. 

He thought about nothing and everything. About how his colleagues must have moved on by now, assuming he was killed. But somehow he knew Thursday and knew he would do anything to solve a crime investigation and uncover the truth no matter what it took and how long it takes, his colleague wouldn't back off so easily... wouldn't give up on him. Right?

But Morse, began questioning everything and everyone, but mostly himself. On some nights Morse thought he'd lose it and thereby himself in the process. 

They'd taken away more from him than Morse ever thought possible. But in his state of misery, he had found someone he almost considered a friend, someone he wasn't scared of for once, in this goddamn house. Someone who watched over him and locked his door when there was a party going on downstairs. Someone that didn't grab him or manhandled him when an opportunity arises. 

Thankfully Peter just left him alone. He wasn't just any robber, he was kinda young for his age especially in this shady criminal world. Following his brother's loyalty. Thats where they all start, the detective thought silently. Though, he still saw some good in the young adult, he had taken care of him after that dreadful night, when Morse couldn't move around on his own because of the heavy abuse he'd endured. 

But Peter had changed the sheets of his bed, personally brought his meals, filled the water can on the cabinet and had carried him back to his room after he'd passed out into the bathtube.

Even with the strange new protection, no one had come visiting him since then, but the fear of a reprise held him hostage every night. He still felt a sting of shame when the thought occurred that Peter had seen him in such a disgraceful state.

But thanks to that moment and Peter, the so called blackmailed doctor would return and visit him. Morse didn't know how he felt about that. Anger still lingered in his bones towards the cowardliness of the doctor, even if he knew the man didn't had a choice, he still could've help Morse in secret... and could have prevented what was taken from him. 

The doctor also held some guilt.

But for some reason the young man found himself in a more accepting way, about everything that happened in the past few months and finally had acknowledged his defeat. It is the way it is, he thought, while watching some birds fly past his window. There just wasn't any way out of here. He just had to wait for his rescue, but in the mean time, what were they planning to do with him when he ran out of information to give? How much longer did he had?

The bell rang and distracted him from the thoughts and questions that haunted his mind. 

He didn't move and just watched some raindrops slid down over the small window on his right. Determined to ignore the doctor and keep his mouth shut. Ignoring his rushing and frightened footsteps on the stairs. The door opened, Peter and the doctor walked in, Morse didn't even gave them a look.

'Detective, he's gonna examine the wounds and brushes on ... your lower body so please cooperate.' Peter said trying hard to be pragmatic. He only received silence.

'Well, I'll leave you two to it then.' He said hesitantly and closed the door behind him, leaving the two alone in his room. Well, that never happened before. If the doctor came for a visit, he never was left alone with him. Maybe he was imagining things, but what if Peter really wanted to help him and get him out this situation? So Morse looked up and locked his eyes with the doctor's and sat up with a cringe.

The older man didn't know how to present himself, awkwardness hung in the room.

'Long time no see, how are you?' The older man asked friendly, while putting his bag of brown leather on the chair beside his bed. Morse just looked at him, with fiery but tired eyes. 

'You look tired, how are the bruisings did they heal properly?' Morse held his tongue. A heavy car drove by.

'Nothing to say hm, that's fine, that's fine. Let's measure your heartbeat first shall we. Can you open up your shirt please.' Morse did as he was told. Exposing his feverish skin to chilling air, a shiver run down his spine when the cold metal of the stethoscope was placed on his chest. 

The doctor frowned when listening to his heartbeat, 'It's a bit uneven and your fever is running high, so maybe there is an ignition somewhere. Can you please show me where it really hurts?' Morse stilled for a moment and turned his head away, looking lost, as if he was in conflict with himself, faltering, if he even wanted to show it to the doctor. 

The older man watched him silently and became worried. The detective looked broken and beat down, there was something missing, after a couple of minutes the older man knew what that was, it was hope... 

It hurt the doctor to see him like that, a younger man that could've easily been his son in another life. 

Something terrible must have happened to him, something more than a beating... He thought, the doctor just couldn't tell what. But soon found out, when the younger man's eyes nodded down to his lower body and instantly hid his red face in both his hands. Thin shoulders shaking with emotion, the doctor saw no trace left of his pride, only a broken soul clouded in shame and sadness.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all thank you so much for the sweet comments and love this story received!  
> (Seriously when I read them it made me blush all evening and it really made my day so much better, so thank you :)!)  
> It's been a hell of ride from the beginning ('till almost the end) and sometimes it has been a pain to write it... sometimes it took me hours to describe one scene. But I guess that's what writing is about, figuring out the perfect words for just a moment in a story.  
> But your support helped me through to some annoying writersblocks and overall I just really enjoyed making this!  
> Thank you for reading and hopefully this chap won't disappoint <3  
> ~cheers L

It was a lot to take in. The doctor stayed as professional as possible, but he couldn't help, feeling the guilt rising up in his chest, while he stitched some certain parts of his lower body. Gulping away a big lump in his throat every time the younger man became rigid when he touched him for medical purposes.

They really had a number on him, he concluded, it was more than that. The detective was awfully quiet, for a whole 2 hours straight since he got here. He just stayed completely still and looked at him with those clear blue eyes, saying nothing but also everything with just one look. 

They had broken him in more ways than one, the doctor thought sadly, how could he just stand here and watch a missing person being abused and treated like garbage by some blackmailing scum? The man flinched by that thought and shook his head a little trying to get rid of the growing emotional attachment he felt towards the younger man. That would get him and his little girl in danger. 

He tied the last piece of bandage around his almost darkblue colored wrists and began packing his things again. When the old man walked to the door and raised his fist to knock and leave Morse behind, trying not to look back at him. The detective stood up from the bed, 

'...Doctor Hemmingway.' The doctor stilled, withholding his fist from the door. Not only in shock by the fact that he'd heard him speak for the first time, but mostly when he'd heard his own name on Morse's lips. 

'Isn't it.' 

How, he thought. 'No, that's not my name.' The doctor quickly denied. 

'I remember you from an old case, you tried to frame these guys because they've hurt your niece.' Morse paused and coughed, because of the neglect in his voice. 

'But later on you've withdrawn your statement at court.' he followed. 'I know how things are right know. They're blackmailing you.' He said with a certain demise keeping his voice stern but low, so to not attract attention from outside. 

The bald man turned to him swiftly and shot him an angry look, telling him to shut up already. He'd finally gotten his attention. 

'I can help you, but will you help me?'

That last sentence had touched a tender spot, his eyes softened and he looked away, finding himself in a substantial dilemma.

Clearly considering his offer for a moment, before some heavy footsteps suddenly followed up to the door. 

The brown door opened with a mad burst and almost hit the doctor and threw him out of balance. 

A big enigmatic figure walked into the room with some others. Looking directly to his right with a fake sorry-expression on his face. 

'Doctor I am so sorry. If I had known you stood right behind the door, I would have been more careful.' 

'No it's fine I'll be on my way kno-' But Arlan withheld him from going anywhere and threw an arm around his shoulders, while turning his attention to a stiff Morse. 

'So doctor now you're here, how is our little patient?' The doctor flinched by the sudden closeness of the man, furiously hoping, that he didn't overheard their small but dangerous conversation a minute ago. Fear shot through him like fire. 

'Well, ehem, he isn't in a best state but he will heal, I have faith in that.' He muttered. 

'Is that so? Well that's good to hear, don't you think so Morse?' 

The copperhaired man, just looked at him with big fearful eyes, but turned his gaze away as quickly. In a rather submissive way. Hemmingway saw him tremble a little, while the knuckles on his fists grew whiter by the second.

'Morse I asked you a question?' Morse just stood there, holding his gaze to the ground. 

The atmosphere changed into something else entirely, it took a dangerous tone. The old doctor was beginning to sweat and feared for the safety of the young detective. Arlan lifted his arm away from the doctor and made his way to Morse like a bull. He grabbed him roughly by his thin and bruised shoulder, causing a small cry from the younger man, with his other hand he forced his head up so Morse would face him. 

'Yes, yes I heard you.' Morse cried angry. 

'Good. Aren't you pleased the doctor came to your aid?' He said with a low voice, demanding some gratitude. Morse tried to push him away by placing his hands against the bigger man's chest, while trying to create some space between them. 

But Arlan just squeezed his shoulder harder, making Morse cry out louder, pearls of sweat appeared on his forehead. 

A slight panic rose up inside of Hemmingway, he had to control himself and his healers-instinct from protecting his patient, otherwise he'd got himself more tangled up in all of this, thus in more danger. But the remark escaped his lips before he realized he said anything. 

'Arlan stop, it would only slow the process of healing if you continue this treatment.' 

The blackhaired leader turned his head slowly towards him, clearly not believing his ears. Dangerous eyes met his, telling him to back off right now and know his place. Hemmingway felt his heart race, but stood his ground, as a doctor he had a reputation to uphold. 

A moment of complete silence went by, although it may have been not even a minute, for the doctor it felt like ages, as if all the oxygen was sucked out of the room the longer the silence persisted, he got light headed but stayed stoic. Yet again the realization struck him, how incredibly scared he actually was of this man. The man who escaped a long-life sentence, thanks to him... 

'What treatment are you speaking of doctor.' Arlan asked in a light, rather friendly tone, but Hemmingway knew better and prepaired himself for the worst. 

'You mean this?' He said, while turning Morse's weak arm into a painful angle, Morse pressed his lips in a thin line to hold in a groan and gave the old man a pleading look. 

'Or this.' Arlan kicked him right in the knee cavity of his left leg. Morse fell down but Arlan held him up by his painful bent arm. The doctor pondered if he had made a grave mistake by saying this to the leader and quickly exchanged looks to see if Morse was ok, well, more of a simple way of ok. If he hadn't passed out or anything. Because hell, Morse was far from ok.

'Yes. See it as a doctors prescription, please.' Hemmingway said carefully in a calm tone, although his voice quivered a little. Revealing the discomfort he felt. Arlan observed the two for a second, but let go of Morse eventually and stepped away from him, while Morse stumbled to the ground and still held his gaze down. 

'Fine, that'll be all doctor, Cole can you accompany him to the door please and discipline your little brother. I don't want these two left alone in this room again, I thought I was clear about that.' One of his men instructed him to move, so he did. He gave Morse one last quick look, before he was led downstairs and left the house again. 

\---

Morse trembled and held his burning arm, trying to sooth away the pain. He stood up from the floor carefully, some stitches had opened up when Arlan had kicked him and humiliated him in front of the doctor. 

For some reason he couldn't move, when they suddenly burst into the room, disturbing their very risky talk. He could've defended himself, but Morse just stiffened when Arlan suddenly walked up to him and grabbed him by his arm. It felt like his whole body set fire when he yanked him close. Feeling Arlan's breath against his face, his legs almost gave away underneath him. 

Morse shook his head trying to block out the stream of flashbacks that entered his mind. He tried to relax by breathing in and out slowly to calm down his racing heart and carefully stretched his fingers open, he hadn't noticed he was holding in a fist all the time. 

It was the first time he'd seen those two since that night almost a week ago. Morse shuddered and sighed, feeling cold, he lay down again and put the sheets around him safely. Hopefully the doctor would take his offer, otherwise everything would already be lost, right? Thank god, they hadn't eavesdropped, or the old man would very well been dead by now.

But Morse felt a sting of worry for Peter's safety. So it was true, he wanted to help him and had disobeyed Arlan's orders. Morse hoped that Cole wouldn't threat him the same way as he did to him. But Cole loved his brother too much and was overly protective towards him, no he wouldn't be so brutal, Morse was more worried about Arlan and sincerely hoped he would leave him alone.

Suddenly he felt a pair of eyes prying in his back, opening his eyes he sat up. Wondering if he had fallen asleep. It was dark outside and the street lamps had just switched on. He scanned the room he thought was empty, fear crawled over him and he began to sweat. A couple of guys, Morse hadn't seen before had opened the door and were hanging out by the doorway.

Watching him with eager eyes and half a smile, like he was some kind of entertainment pet. Adrenaline shot through him like thunder. Morse grew cold and held the sheets close to his body. Fearing what they were planning to do.

'So, you're the detective right? the one they're all searching for. Endeavour Morse. We know you.' One of them said in threatening voice. The short haired man around the same age as Peter blew out a cloud of smoke while ticking a bit of ash off his sigarette. The others muttered and laughed.

'You once caught me stealing a piece of bread, you remember? You wanted to make an example out of me, so you arrested me and me mum had to pay me fine.'

Morse knew he’d looked familair, but he also knew this night was far from over.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made an extra long chapter, just for you and also because this is the final chapter(it's special) and wanted to write a good end to this story. Hopefully I succeeded *wiping away sweat from forehead*  
> Thank you all for reading and sticking with me, you're all the best <333 I couldn't have done it without the sweet comments!  
> So kudos to u all!  
> If there are enough peeps out there wanting a sequel, let me know.
> 
> I'm gonna sleep now xx -.-

'You wanted to make an example out of me, so you arrested me and me mum had to pay me fine.' 

A vague memory occurred to him, he was a low leveled policeman at the time who just started his job, it wasn't his idea to do that, but the officer who stood a level above him, had the last say in the matter and ordered him too. He knew then just by the looks of the young teenager that his family couldn't afford this big amount of money. Let alone his widowed mother, who could barely pay the rent of her flat with the money she earned working as a laundress. But he soon forgot about them as the flow of his career and hard work meandered him in a working routine. 

The men walked into the room, snickering to each other, some hold a beer in their hand and walked a bit goofy, indication of alcohol was very present. Morse's heartbeat was thrumming violently in his chest, drops of cold sweat streamed down the back of his neck, he really didn't like the way this was heading. Watching them closely, the atmosphere became very oppressive. If they wanted to scold him thats fine, Morse would let him, he could take it, he'd stay silent for a whole night long if need be, but if they were planning in doing more... He could strangle one of them with his bedsheets, keeping the 'victim' alive ofcourse, but it would scare them off for a while. 

He wouldn't be so helpless as last time. No, he wouldn't be helpless any other time, not anymore. He'd show them. Clearly the leader of this small gang of 5, made his way to his bed and looked down on him with strange satisfaction. The others closed in behind him, one leaned against the wall beside Morse, giving an overall intimidating posture. Morse swallowed thickly and was planning a course of action in his head.

'You were all big and mighty then, just as every other copper, doing what they please. Pissing others off and letting them take the blame. You're all scum if ye ask'd me.' 

He brought his cigarette to his lips again and sat down on his bed, like he owned the place. Morse didn't dare move. The brunette looked at him, with a mocking expression on his face. Clearly enjoying the power he had over the policeman now. Knowing well enough, he could do anything to him if he wanted too. 

'You know, I never forgot what you did to my mother, in what kind of hell you put her through at that time, just for a piece of baked wheat and look at you. All helpless and weak. Where is your badge now detective?' Morse flinched by those words, because of how accurate and real they actually sounded. The whole group laughed and clinked their bottles against one another. 'Ah, look at him sulk.' He brought his hand to Morse's face to touch his cheek in a downgrading and playful manner, but Morse had none of that and slapped his hand away rather aggressively. Making the other grow angry instantly, almost like an erupting volcano, he jumped up, sooner than Morse could follow, eyes like fire and grabbed him by the throat. He raised his other hand and formed it into a fist ready to strike Morse right in the face. His friends encouraged him cheerfully in the back. For a split second Morse thought he was done for.

'Hey! Leave him be, he is badly injured and needs to rest, what are you even doing in here?' everyone became silent immediately and turned around to see an irritated Peter standing at the door.

'Come on, if my brother or Arlan saw you guys in here, they would shot each of you through your hand, you know that.'

'Oh because he's his property right?' He mentioned, withdrawing his hands from Morse trembling form.

'Why is he even wounded, couldn't handle Arlan's big dick or something?' Everyone burst out in laughing. Peter frowned at that, one of his eyes was swollen up and half closed his lower lip was split up with a fresh wound. Must've been Cole, Morse thought gravely. The punishment for letting the doctor alone with him, the only connection he had with the outer world. 

'Well I don't know and I don't care.' Peter said simply while gesturing the guys out of the room.

'Why can't we have a little fun with him? Haven't you heard? They're going to move him to some hell hole. Arlan is going to sell him off to some big bosses, because he's so damn precious with the information he has and all.' Peter just looked at him, with a shocking shimmer in his eyes.

Not knowing what to say for a second.  
'for real?' He asked, masking his surprise perfectly with a low voice. He closed the door and locked it, the conversation died down when they headed downstairs. 

Leaving Morse behind on the verge of total and utter panic.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

He couldn't sleep, he just couldn't. It was an impossible task, the last sentence that guy said haunted his mind and thoughts, they grew darker and desperate by the hour. It wasn't just that Arlan was planning on selling him, the whole moral idea of him being a living and breathing person was just gone. It touched his core like ice that flooded his insights, but at the same time held him in an embrace of uncertainty. 

All sorts of outcomes went through his mind, the one worse than other, but one thing was for certain, if they would sell him to the highest bidder or some shady mighty person in the criminal underworld, the chance to see Jane again would reduce more than it ever had been, they would strip away everything from him, his name, what he was, they would not only take away his freedom but also his identity. He would disappear completely, like he never had been there in the first place.

Morse decided he was better of dead. So, he would try to escape again, even if Arlan or Cole would punish him for it. He knew now, that they wouldn't kill him, he was goddamn sell ware and would soon make a lot of money, so the chances to escape this house alive was very much increased now. 

Morse would take the risk, tomorrow night, he'd flee. If it would be a successful attempt, he didn't know and could only hope. If they would catch him... Well, Morse preferred not to think about that. He'd try even if it was the last thing he would do. '

He's been here long enough and grew tired of the waiting and the hope that grazed his everyday with disappointment and sadness. The little dignity he had left and the urge to see the woman he loved back again, made his inner fire inflame. He would break out. Even if he had to commit a murder for it. 

Enough was enough. It was time to leave this place. Morse collected all the strength he had left even if he was heavily injured, the will to survive and break out was bigger than it ever had been. But on the other hand... he had to think about Joan's safety and first of all, he had no clue of where he was. Somewhere in a disadvantaged neighborhood that's for sure. 

A lot of guys that visited this house had a rather, rough accent, so it wasn't anywhere near Oxford. If he would break out, the first thing he had to look for was a telephone booth, calling the police station and urging Joan and the Thursday's to go to a safe house. Suddenly his hands hurt.

Morse looked down, he hadn't noticed as always he'd formed them in a fist. It became a habit since he got here and only relaxed them when his fingers hurt. He watched his hands open up from the cramped stance they were held in and thought of the choices he had to make. Joan's safety was everything to Morse. But he had enough of this place and these people and if Arlan would begin to 'sell' him eventually, Morse couldn't do a thing about it, he knew, he would lose himself completely then. No. The decision was made. Tomorrow night he'd be leaving this nightmare behind him. Once and for all.

The next morning Morse managed to get a couple hours of sleep, before Peter knocked on the door and walked in with a plate of baked eggs on a toast and a glass of water. Of course without any cutlery. Morse rubbed his tired eyes, sat up and took the plate from Peter. ‘Thanks,' he muttered. Peter nodded and sat on the chair beneath the window. Morse was a little surprised by this move. He'd sit there if he had a good reason for it, but Morse looked at him for a second and saw how tired and defeated he looked. He could see his injuries more clearly now in the morning light, his face was beaten up apart from the black eye and the wound on his lip, a big bruise colored the side of his jaw. 

He looked exhausted Endeavour knew his fresh bruisings must've hurt. Before he would ask questions he'd regret later, he focused on his breakfast and began eating. After he was finished he put down the plate and the glass on the nightstand. He gave Peter a quick glance, kinda wondered what he was up to and felt a little awkward. Peter blinked his eye and just stared to the floor. If he wanted to rest here, Morse really didn't mind. 

Maybe it was an hour, maybe it was just half an hour, they just sat together, enjoying each others presence in comforting silence. The young man had done more for him than everyone else in this criminal headquarters. He'd treated him with kindness and had protected him more than once. He really had wanted to help him. 

'Thank you.' The words had escaped Morse's lips before the thought had even occurred to him. Peter looked up, with his one eye he met Morse's and for a moment they felt like equals. Suddenly his one eye became rather sad, as if he could cry out any second. The detective noticed that he was shivering a little. This whole thing, this criminal world, Morse saw it took the better off the young man. He flinched, a sting of guilt went through him because, if he would escape for real this time. Guess who'd be blamed? Peter stood up with a huff, walked to Morse's side of the bed and picked up the finished plate. 

'Peter.' The detective said. The other was taken by surprise and almost dropped the glass. 'What.' He said, voice heavy of exhaustion and lightly irritated. 'Get out of this place.' Morse urged him, with anxious eyes. 'Before it's too late.'

'What the hell are you talking about?' Peter said in an angry tone. 'What do you know!' He said, walked away and closed the door with a hard bang behind him. Well he had warned him, there wasn't anything more Morse could do at this point, without revealing too much of his plan. He sighed and let it go, he was old enough to make his own choices now. Morse had his own problems to worry about right now. He looked around the room for a split second. No one would come to his room this early in the morning right? So Morse closed his eyes and let sleep take him, one more time. 

Morse woke up with a shudder and instantly looked at his window to check the time, worried he'd slept for too long to form any plan at all. It was dim outside, an indication that it was somewhere late in the afternoon, around 5/6 pm. Morse sighed and evened his stressed heartbeat. Coincidently Peter came in with a plate of food and a glass of water. Morse froze for a moment but immediately relaxed his muscles when he saw it was just Peter. He said nothing, but didn't look well. He looked pale and the bruisings on his face had a darker colour than before. He gave him the food and stood before his bed, it felt like he wanted to say something but couldn't. Morse felt a bit awkward, but when their eyes met. Peter looked away. 'I...'

'Arlan, wanted me to anesthetize you, for tomorrow,.. so if I were you don't touch the water.' Morse blanked out for a bit. 'There's a message from the doctor under the plate, to keep you healthy.' He muttered with a touch of nervousness in his voice. 'I'll make sure we follow the prescription.' And with those words, he left the room and closed the door behind him. 

Endeavour was perplexed and had no idea what to think or how to feel. But when he read the small note from under the plate in his finger and read: 2 am black car, second street lamb left.  
The realization filled him with joy. Joy and reassurance, that he wasn't alone in this and all would finally be well. He'd be saved! Rescued! By the doctor himself and Peter making sure his path was clear from any danger. He smiled. A broad smile that almost felt alien. He had to keep himself from laughing out loud. A tear escaped his eye, not of pain and despair but pure and utter joy. 

He stood up slowly, a pang shot through his lower back. He hissed. It still wasn't healed well enough to run or even move yet. Well, he had no choice. He'd be leaving after midnight, so he had to prepare himself for what was to come.

It was quiet, very quiet. It sounded like everyone in the house was asleep and he was the only one wide awake. Good, he thought. Nevertheless, thinking something was safe was a treacherous thing in this house, he was well aware of that fact. So he decided to wait a bit more, to make sure everyone was in a deep state of sleep. While keeping an eye out for a grumbling black car.  
Morse heard the soothing sound of raindrops falling down on the iron gutter under his window and began reflecting about the past couple of months. 

Where it all had started, the robbery, the abduction, the harbor, where he made a deal, this house where he was taken too, the interrogations, the shameful state he was kept in, the submission he was forced into, the blackmail, the doctor and... what had happened in this room. He was beginning to feel dizzy, but there wasn't any time to give in to this. These things besides his body, his mind still had to process and heal from. He had to keep his shit together if he wanted to escape from this organization and Arlan's plans to sell him to the highest bidder. 

He didn't know if Peter would come pick him up. Or what the whole plan was. Hell, he hadn't even seen him since then. He didn't assumed anything, but would leave the moment he heard the rears of a car stopping besides the house. Morse wasn't sure how many hours had gone by, but decided he couldn't wait any longer and stood up from the bed. He bit away the pain. He took the cover of his pillow with him and twisted it, until it became a small piece of sturdy rope. A weapon, if it would come to that, but also a little protection from the rain, hypothermia just wasn't an option at the moment. While doing that he heard the well-known sound of a car parking by. Morse quickly peaked outside and indeed saw a black car. Adrenaline shot through him like fire, it was now or never! he thought. He hurried to the door, held the homemade rope in his hand and made sure he moved as quiet as possible, but ready to strike out if need be. One last look at his room, he saw the painting and raised his middle finger at it, while leaving the room for good.

It was plain quiet on the corridor, the lights were off and there wasn't anyone guarding his door. So, Morse sprinted to the stairs and walked lightly over the dark wooden steps, keeping them from creaking. He walked into the hallway, ignoring the flashback creeping into his mind about the failed attempt to escape. Fear of Cole suddenly grabbing him from behind made him tremble. 

He looked around, his heartbeat almost ringing in his ears. Cold sweat dripping down his face. Hoping furiously Peter had held on to his word. He gazed into the living room, there wasn't anyone or maybe there was, a dark silhouette sitting on a chair his face half hidden in the shadows while holding a half empty glass of whisky in his hand. 

Morse held his breath goosebumps flew over his back, thinking he screwed up big this time, but after a minute he noticed that the other was fast asleep. No time to waste, he made his way to the front door. Thoughts racing through his mind, was this really it? He thought. How many times had he dreamed of this very moment? How many times had he looked at the door while taken for an interrogation. Morse didn't know and didn't care, it was now or never! This was real!

He opened the door softly, a fresh cold flow kissed his cheeks and cleared his mind instantly. He lifted his knee to step outside for the first time in months and put his feet on the cold wet ground. Morse spotted the car by the second streetlight and sprinted to it, the rain fell on his skin, he felt so light as if he could ascend any second and fly away. Happiness grazed his features, it felt like a goddamn dream.

He looked through the window and expected the doctor looking back at him. But instead saw a younger looking fellow, around 20. He gestured him to get in the car, Morse had no second thought and opened the door with a swing. The car drove away instantly. It felt so unreal, leaving the house behind, leaving the street. Even when they left the district and took the highway.

Morse was still dazzled, he just couldn't believe this. But a warm curiosity came up towards the man beside him. 

'Peter,' Morse said. 'Why did you say the doctor would come pick me up with this car?' 

The young man huffed, 'After everything, this is the only question you can think off.' He laughed a painful half smile. 

'I...' Endeavour faltered. 'I don't know what to say.' He just couldn't articulate his gratitude towards him.

'I spoke with the doctor, together we made a plan.' He lit up a cigarette and continued. 'He would, as in right now hand over the address and also some evidence, anonymously off course. In return I would make sure you were safe. because I know what Arlan is capable of. If the cops came bursting in. He wouldn't have left you alive out there,.' Peter explained plainly, Morse shivered silently. 'He always finds ways to mask a murder, he always gets away with everything. But right now, you can get him behind bars.' 

So that's what this was, everything fell into place. 'So in return?' Morse asked, a lump formed in his throat. Ready to hear his demands.

'I want you to keep me and my big brother out of this. I want you to clear our names, so we can have a fresh start somewhere else and leave this world behind us. Thats all I'm asking detective Morse.' 

Suddenly the car stopped, Morse held on to his robe and looked outside nervously, hoping this wasn't some kind of desolated place, where he could be blackmailed with ease. Instead he saw something he never thought was a more beautiful sight. 

He lifted his safety belt and opened the door to the police station. But a heavy hand appeared on his arm. Withholding him just when he wanted to leave. Morse turned to look at Peter, with slight fear but only saw a knocked down young man trying to make up for his brothers mistakes, he met a desperate eye and after a while nodded to him.

'I will see what I can do.' He said and stepped out of the vehicle. The adrenaline left his veins, he felt cold and exhausted too tired to think of anything at all. So he just walked, just walked until he was at the counter. Not noticing the busy fuzz going on inside because of a certain anonymous caller and dropped down to his knees. Hearing his name somewhere far away before he fainted and lay flat on the ground. Finally safe.


End file.
